When the Cannabis Control Commission made its cannabis rules, that is, when the CCC created and promulgated 935 CMR 500 (Adult Use of Marijuana), the commission capped the number of licenses for medical dispensaries at three per business entity, and capped the number of recreational retail shops also at three per business entity.

This meant that even if you had plenty of capital and broad “networking skills”—a characterization I offer euphemistically—you could sell cannabis as “medicine” to the sick out of (only) up to three separate dispensary locations, and you could sell cannabis to those looking for to use it recreationally out of (only) up to three separate storefronts.

That was the cap: One cannabis corporation could have only three dispensaries and only three rec. shops: a limit of six, no more than three of either type.

So, let’s say you’re a SWG w/M, lots and lots of M.

A decade or so ago, you’re in your mid-30s, and you’re getting tired of whatever you’ve been doing to increase your wealth (banking, sales, real estate, whatever lucrative distraction you’d been sinking 50+ hours a week into in order to fuel your lavish lifestyle) and decide that cannabis is not only a “good investment” but also edgier—and therefore way more fun—than boring portfolio management, hustling to close deals, or hosting poorly attended Sunday open houses.

You cash out whatever you’d been up to, leaving you encircled by an armada of boats, where every last one is filled with money.

You are already in the top 1%.

But capitalism is a game for you, and the objective is Make More Money.

Capitalize on your capital.

Now you know you’re not going to have any problem funding your cannabis business. (Look around at those boats if you need a reminder.)

And because you (like almost everyone else in the nascent cannabis industry) have no idea what it will take to make it in the nascent cannabis business, you (like the other SWG w/M who are looking to make it in the nascent cannabis industry) hire people to advise you.

You can easily afford to hire experts—and you do.

You pay people to write your business plan. You retain skillful lawyers to draft the HCA you eventually will sign—not the rinky-dink, contractual whatever the locals come up with. You curate a marketing team to come up with a business proposal that is sure to cover the bases, which, unsurprisingly, vary from location to location. No one can expect that the city of Malden, for example, is going to want the same sort of cannabis business as a little town like Littleton.

Everything works out great. (This happens a lot for the 1%.)

You’re able to get a license to dispense medical marijuana because, in part, you had enough money to “do it all.” Back then, when it was just medical, you had to grow it, harvest it, process it, package it, and then sell it in one of your three medical dispensaries.

You did this and made bank.

When recreational cannabis arrives, you’ve got a jump on everyone else. You’re rich, for starters (though that’s nothing new for you) and, now, you know the ropes, so to speak.

Smart, wealthy, capitalist that you are, you promptly submit three separate applications to three separate municipalities to get three licenses to sell recreational cannabis.

Of course, you’ve had your market researchers figure out which three places in the commonwealth are going to have the most business, cause you want to go there—as do all the other SWG w/M who have done their market research. You decide to be smart and go to places where your “networking skills” have already been warmly embraced.

Lo and behold, in the end, all your time and money has paid off, because you now have three dispensaries (selling medical marijuana) and three rec shops (selling everything and anything touched by THC).

You have more money than you ever imagined. You decide to buy yourself another G-Wagon and think, for the first time, “Gulfstream of Bombardier?” You also think, though not for the first time, “Why should the government tell a businessman what he can or can’t do in business?”

Sure, the CCC says you’re capped, essentially telling you “game over” in Capital, the Cannabis Edition.

“Screw that,” you think, and begin to imagine a workaround.

All you really need is some local help.

TTYS,

Jkb